"Grace Davinora!"
Standing at the podium before the overwhelming majority of the teenaged population of District 8, Antonius Gadswell adjusted the pink carnation pinned to his powder blue suit jacket and scanned the young crowd for the year's female tribute. A large portion of District 8's population crammed themselves into the district's large, central plaza, the silence of the textile factories just a few streets away aiding in carrying the intensity of his words to their ears. The sea of young men and woman before Antonius remained still, stunned into silence; a few, whose anxiety had plagued their mind during the hours leading up to the Reaping, breathed sighs of relief. Their own safety ensured, hundreds of pairs of eyes began to search as Antonius did, for the unlucky girl who would soon fight for her life against tributes from all across Panem.
Slowly, a hole formed towards the back of the crowd, revealing a stunned Asian girl, one fist trembling and shaking the scuffed white cane clutched within. Her free hand stretched outward, fingertips brushing against the soft fabric of the blouse in front of her for just a moment, before the girl shied away, moving out of reach. With a sweeping motion, her arm reached out, trying to find someone to grab hold of for stability, but as her body rotated, desperate for some semblance of contact, those around her moved away, heads turned as though unwilling to meet her milky brown gaze.
"Ah!" Antonius' voice echoed once more, "There you are! Come come now, no need to be shy!"
"Please…p-please…someone help me..."
Grace's cane swung in the empty pocket of space all around her, connecting with nothing and nobody. Breaths fought their way savagely from her chest, seething through chattering teeth as the realization of her predicament finally began to sink in. A tear fell, staining the graying white fabric of her sundress, and she took a moment to wipe her eyes with her free, sleeveless arm, before steadying her cane firmly on the ground and moving towards the sound of the stage's speaker system.
Tentative steps scratched their way through the dirt of District 8's plaza, the red tip of her cane stained brown as it dragged its way through a slight dust cloud of recently vacated space. All around her, Grace heard the sound of footsteps, moving en masse to clear a path, perhaps out of kindness, or perhaps out of self-preservation, for fear of being viewed as interfering with the Reaping. As she reached the edge of the crowd, two strong sets of hands seized her by the upper arms, one taking a moment to wrench the cane out of her still-quivering hand, before marching her forward, to the stage. They deposited her at the base of the staircase leading up to the podium where, unseen to her, Antonius stood, smiling and beckoning to Grace to join him.
Her cane confiscated, Grace took a deep breath and slid the tip of her dusty white shoe forward, pressing it to the first step and dragging it upward until it emerged at the top. She repeated the process a second time, and a third, before feeling confident enough in her judgment of the distance to scale the staircase unabated.
"Come along."
Antonius' words, while surely meant as a form of encouragement, interrupted Grace's concentration and she misjudged her timing, stubbing her toe and stumbling up two steps to land on her knee on-stage. Her cheeks burned as her head remained hung low, unwilling to look towards to crowd, but to their credit, not a single laugh or titter reached Grace's ears.
"Are you alright?"
Antonius moved to Grace's side, offering his best look of concern and a hand to help her up, but neither gesture was useful to her. She rose to her feet of her own volition and managed to bump into his arm on the way up, only then alerted to his presence. Gasping, her fingers clutched at the blue silk of his jacket's sleeve a bit tighter than he was prepared for, eliciting a short, sharp cry as he nearly stumbled into the podium. This drew some laughter from the crowd.
Prying Grace's hand loose and guiding her to the right side of the podium, Antonius took a moment to brush himself off and straighten out his suit and tie, slightly ruffled by the unexpected actions of the year's female tribute. Now on-stage, he, and the rest of Panem watching at home, had a moment to evaluate the girl.
At about average height and slightly below average weight, Grace didn't stand out from the crowd as having a particularly memorable physique; were it not for her obvious disability, she would hardly register as more than another cannon fodder tribute from District 8. Her dress reached several inches below her knees, exposing a small portion of her shins between the hem of her dress and the tops of her socks. Long, dark hair dangled between her shoulder blades, relatively well-maintained, but still featuring several stray hairs that seemed unwilling to lie flat within the rest of her style.
"Grace Davinora!" Antonius bellowed into the microphone one more, his volume causing the upturned cowlick of his indigo hair to shudder.
A few in the girls' section of the crowd offered polite applause, the boys too anxious to do so themselves. Seated at the back of the stage, Woof, the ancient victor representing District 8's glorious history of male tributes, clapped his hands towards earnestly, an unaware grin plastered to his face. In comparison, the subdued and almost inaudible applause of Cecelia Coteau seemed almost out-of-place, considering that, should no volunteers arise, she would be mentoring Grace in her efforts to survive the year's arena.
"Now," Antonius continued his yearly speech, "Are there any brave young women who would like to step forward and volunteer to take the place of this lovely girl?"
Grace stared out over the crowd, listening for any sound of aid; even a cough or the clearing of a throat would've been welcome. Several girls bowed their heads; others turned away, not wanting to meet those unseeing eyes; no voices rose to volunteer for the district's ultimate sacrifice.
"Anyone?" Antonius' voice carried an odd sense of surprise, given the reluctance outer districts generally showed towards volunteering, "Alright then. We now have our official female tribute, representing District 8 in the 72nd Annual Hunger Games! Grace Davinora!"
The original smattering of applause Grace had received didn't rise up again at the second utterance of her name. Frowning somewhat at District 8's unwillingness to celebrate, Antonius moved back towards the table between Woof and Cecelia's seats, and inserted his hand into the large bowl of light blue slips of paper. Fishing around, his fingers closed around a slip and withdrew it from the bowl before returning to the podium. He flashed Grace a quick smile as he strode past, though the gesture was lost on her.
"For the boys," Antonius spoke into the microphone as he unfolded the slip in his hand, "Carter Lewiston!"
Grace could hear murmuring to her left: the boys' side of the crowd, as they tried to identify the young man within their ranks who would soon take the long walk towards the stage as she had done. Amidst the clamor of secured voices, the sound of footsteps, shuffling forward from the center of the crowd, reached her ears. These footsteps were joined by two other pairs as Carter, flanked by the same peacekeepers that had seen fit to confiscate Grace's cane, guided him to the stage. He climbed the stairs on his own, however, with no support offered by Antonius, and crossed by Grace to stand to the left of the podium.
Once again, Antonius announced Carter's name, and once again, the call for volunteers was met by silence. And so District 8's Reaping came to a close, the year's two tributes chosen: Grace Davinora and Carter Lewiston.
"Go on," Antonius ordered, excitedly, "shake hands."
Carter extended one hand for a few awkward seconds as Grace's left hand fumbled around in the air, trying to find its target. Clearing his throat, Carter moved forward and took the initiative, catching her flailing palm in his and squeezing just enough to calm her down. He stared into her eyes, unnerved as she stared straight back without the slightest hint of recognition, and finally, the handshake was over.
"Grace Davinora and Carter Lewiston," Antonius bowed as he concluded his role in the ceremony, "May the odds be ever in your favor!"
He bid a fond farewell to the crowd and looped one arm around both Grace and Carter, guiding them into District 8's town hall.